It's not easy being 93…and anyone who thinks otherwise is unwise. Yet, paradoxically, it is what we all are striving for. Here is an excerpt from Wallace Stevens that is my birthday card to mom on her 93rd.
There were those that returned to hear him read from the poem of life,
Of the pans above the stove, the pots on the table, the tulips among them.
They were those that would have wept to step barefoot into reality,
That would have wept and been happy, have shivered in the frost
And cried out to feel it again, have run fingers over leaves
And against the most coiled thorn, have seized on what was ugly
And laughed
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